


wocka wocka

by huliabitch



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Smut, and so im going to do just that, ch 6 is spicy, i wanted to write some drabbles, sooo yeah, there choking and spanking and some breeding play, theres some pining, thigh riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:00:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22413607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/huliabitch/pseuds/huliabitch
Summary: some drabbles i decided to do or were requested
Relationships: The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Original Female Character(s), The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 106





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you’re running away from some thugs that want mando and the kid. 
> 
> 44\. “If you move that blaster an inch closer to my face you are going to lose that hand”

“Oof—“ Landing on your ass you feel like you’ve run into a brick wall, when in fact you’ve just run into the back of one of the thugs you were running from. 

Looking up you see you were able to throw him off balance, thinking quickly you kick one of his legs out knocking him down to one knee and scramble to your feet running back around the corner you just cleared. 

But you instantly come to a stop, turns out the thug who was originally chasing you finally caught up, because you’re now staring down the wrong end of a blaster. 

“Look,” his eyes roam over you as he takes a step closer, “All you had to do was tell us where he is and we would have been on our way.” His eyes continue undressing you but his blaster stays true, coming closer to you face.

“Now though. Now we’re going to have a little fun before you take us to him.” 

**“If you move that blaster an inch closer to my face you are going to lose that hand.”** You grit out through clenched teeth. Balling up your hands you slid a foot back readying yourself to grab your knife and attack. 

“I would listen to her, you will lose a hand.” The Mandalorians voice comes from behind the thug near the entrance of the alley. There’s menace dripping from every word he speaks. He’s leaning against the wall as if he doesn’t care what happens. You know it not to be true and relief washes through you as now you at least have some backup.

“Me on the other hand.” The Mandalorian steps off the wall and begins walking towards the two of you, power in each of his steps. “I’ll just kill you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr @huliabitch


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some soft and sad?

Your morning started pretty much how it always starts, with the child babbling away. However this time they seemed much closer than normal, rolling over you open your eyes to see them just at the end of your cot, playing with the small cloth doll you picked up for them some time ago. You smile at the scene and sit up propping your back against the wall. 

“Hmmm, hey there sweetling,” Sleep still heavy in your voice the child looks up and smiles, showing their tiny teeth and makes their way to your lap, doll in hand. 

“What are you doing up here?” You stroke one of their long floppy ears as they start chewing on the doll. Leaning your head back to rest your eyes, sleep tries to pull you back under as you are content with the child in your lap. 

“They wanted to be near you,” You open your eyes at the sound of the Mandalorians’ voice. You didn’t know he was down in the cargo bay with you, usually, when you are asleep he spends his time up top in the cockpit plotting out where to travel next. 

However, he’s now sat at the table focused on cleaning one of his blasters, despite just speaking to you, the rest of his weapons are scattered across the top. You still don’t know what to make of the man beneath the mask. Yes, he’s been kind to you and the child, he’s given you both a home and protection that you wouldn’t have found elsewhere. But he’s still such a mystery you wish to solve. 

Maybe one day. 

Giving a hum in acknowledgment you smirk at the thought of the child bugging Mando to be placed at your side. They probably looked up to him with those big brown orbs for eyes and Mando just caved. As he has done so many times before. 

“Well,” You scoop up the child in your lap, a squeak of glee comes out of them as you stand up from the cot. The cold metal of the floor against your bare feet instantly wakes you up fully. A shiver runs through you, your sleep shirt and shorts doing nothing to stave off the ever-present chill of the ship.

“I guess it’s time for some breakfast.” Making your way to the food storage you set the child down on top of a crate and they start babbling away realizing that they are about to be fed. 

As you passed in front of the Mandalorian you didn’t see how he looked up from his blaster and his gaze followed you to the containers. You didn’t see how he stilled and watched you place the child down and rummage through the containers pulling out some fruit and a package of oats. You couldn’t tell how when you reached up to grab three bowls from a high shelf, his eyes skimmed the little bit of skin that peaked through at your waist. Wherever you went his gaze followed and his heart fluttered in his chest like a bird trying to escape a too-small cage. The feeling inside him had been growing steadily the past few weeks and he was scared of what it meant. Of what it could _~~would~~_ lead too. 

So when you set a warm bowl of oats, with bits of fruit mixed in, on the table with a small smile, you never see the longing he holds in his eyes for something he knows he could never have. The only movement you see from him is a tilt of his helmet from you to the bowl. 

You grab yours and the child’s oatmeal bowls placing them at the top of the ladder. Climbing back down you pick up the child where you left them on the crate and make your way back to climb the ladder. 

Mando is still staring at the bowl as you pass by him. Well as far as you can tell he is still staring at the bowl. He hasn’t moved, blaster still half part in his gloved hands. 

“We’re going to eat up here so your dad can eat in peace little one.” You murmur to the child as you begin the climb up to the cockpit. 

You’re almost at the top when you hear him, soft, a whisper, if you weren’t used to listening out for him you would've missed it. 

“Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr @huliabitch


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 15\. “Can you stay, please?” “Of course”  
> 69\. “Sleep, you’ve done enough for today”  
> Anon

The three of you had found yourself somewhere in the outer-rim, on some no-name desert planet, in some no-name desert village, in the only cantina for miles. 

Convincing Mando that it was a good idea to stay in the small village for a few days took some time but you managed it. While he found odd jobs around the town, you had spent your day occupying the kid's attention and picking up supplies you all would need in the coming months. 

Now the three of you were in a corner table drinking and settling in for the night. Well, you were drinking, the kid was nestled between the two of you sipping on a bowl of bone broth, and Mando was silently observing the rest of the cantina. 

Taking a sip of the drink, you couldn’t recall the name of it just asking for anything to take the edge off, you study the man before you. He seems relaxed, one arm outstretched on the back of the booth while the other rests on the table, fingers sometimes drumming along to the music playing. 

You like the moments when you can unabashedly watch him, you found yourself doing it more and more these past few weeks. 

This moment— This was apparently not one of those times. Your eyes travel up the length of his armor-clad arm on the table. Taking in as much detail as your slightly muddled mind can. 

The Beskar shines in the low light of the cantina, you think he must have recently polished it as your eyes bounce around his chest plate. If you were to gently lean over you’re certain you would be able to see your reflection shine back at you. 

Could you get away with resting your head against his broad chest? Taking in the steady rise and fall of his breath. 

Could you hear his heartbeat through the Beskar and thick layers? Feel the heat of his body or would he be cool to the touch? 

When you finally make it all the way up to the T of his visor and out of the little daydream you ended up in, you realize you’ve been caught. 

_Oh shit._

The Mandalorian. 

Just saw. 

You checking. 

Him out. 

Eyes wide from being caught, heat blooms across your face. You down the rest of your drink and struggle to get out of the booth mumbling something about “Need— stronger—“ 

You make your way to the bar and order another drink absolutely mortified by being caught ogling the bounty hunter. 

“I’m an idiot.” Whispering to yourself as you rest your head against your arms on the bar top. Working up the courage to go back to the booth, you try to subtly glance over at the Mandalorian if only to try to get a read on what he’s thinking. But when you do he’s looking at you and by the tilt of his helmet, you can tell he is amused by your embarrassment. 

Groaning, you grab your drink from the bartender thanking them and walk back to Mando. Your face still feels flushed as you sit down, but you don’t think that’s going to go away anytime soon. Not if the bounty hunter across from you just keeps staring. You are sure that underneath that helmet there is a smirk that you would like to wipe off his face _~~or kiss~~_

Raising your glass to your lips you take a drink as Mando asks, “Warm in here isn’t it?” 

You nearly choke. 

Now he’s just teasing you. 

You mumble in agreement into your cup and take another large gulp just to avoid looking at him. That’s when you realize the bartender really took it up a notch. The alcohol thrums through your veins making you feel warmer than you already are, there’s a small voice in the back of your head saying you're probably going to regret the stronger drink in the morning. But right now, after being caught checking out your...whatever he is to you, you don’t really care. Maybe it’ll help you forget this embarrassing night. 

———————

“Can we go— _hiccup_ — Can we go somewhere green next?” 

The Mandalorian is in the adjoining room to yours, laying the kid down in his bed and listening to you ramble on about how this planet is nothing but sand. And how you really wish to see some tall green trees. 

“Ooh!” You let out in a small burst of excitement, “We—we could go visit Cara and Omera.” You're currently sitting on your bed, eyes closed with your back against the cool wall, attempting to stay awake and maybe sober up, but failing miserably. 

“I’ll see what I can do.” Making a small nest around the Child, Mando answers you back, wary of how much noise he makes, so to not disturb them. 

Walking back to your room he sees you’ve slid down the wall and have finally stopped fighting going to sleep. With a small chuckle and a shake of his head, he walks to your slumped form and gently takes your shoes off. 

However, when he begins to move you under the sheet you start to stir, “I— I wasn’t sleeping.” The end of your sentence drifts off and the Mandalorians gloved hand tucks some of your hair behind your ear, “I know. But you need too.” He gets you under the sheet pulling it up over you, “ **Sleep, you’ve done enough today.** ”

With a final glance down at you, the bounty hunter walks back to his room, heart hammering in his chest for a reason he doesn’t understand or maybe he does. And he knows sleep will elude him tonight. As it does most might. When he hears a soft voice ask, “ **Can you stay? Please?** ”

He turns to look at you. It's like you’re seeing right through the armor, right down to his skin. And somehow he feels like he’s never been more exposed, more seen, than he is right now. He replies “ **Of course.** ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr @huliabitch  
> if you wanna request something hit me up there


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “No grave can hold my body down I'll crawl home to her” Hozier - Work Song

The bounty, that was supposed to be an easy catch, was turning out to be a lot harder than he originally thought. Now it was turning into a nightmare. 

Literally. 

He doesn’t know when, but at some point in the last 30 minutes of chasing the bounty to the edge of town and into the jungle that lay outside, he’d been hit with something. And that something was knocking him out on his ass. It was some sort of poison, that he knew. He felt like his skin was on fire and his head was foggy. His armor felt more like bricks that were tied to his being, pulling him deep underwater, instead of the layer of protection that they usually left him feeling.

Luckily he could still follow the bounty through the trees, but only by tracking their heat signatures. At this moment he knew they had the upper hand, he just hoped that they didn’t realize it as well. 

_Never going after an alleged spice runner again._

The Mandalorians vision begins to wane the more he stumbled through the underbrush of the jungle, from the corner of his eye he sees a flash of a person, turning quickly he fires in that direction, but there was no one there. Another flash of someone in the other direction. He turns, fires. And again no one. He dizzies himself spinning around, looking, hoping that some will actually be there. 

_Stop it. Shake it off._

He tries to continue following the bounty’s path but he's confused, disoriented. He feels as if his skin is even hotter now, sweat beading on his forehead, dripping down, blurring his vision even more. Leaning against a tree he tries to stabilize himself but the poison is rushing through his body now. His mouth turns dry as his tongue feels corse against his lips. He can hear his heart pounding in his ears, the thrum of it gradually drowning out the natural sounds of the jungle until all that’s left is a high pitched ringing.

Blaster fire jostles him out of his trance, as it hits just above his position, splintering the trees there. The Mandalorian turns and fires in the direction the shot came from, swaying where he stands but grip never faltering on his weapon. 

He makes his way over, hoping to catch the bounty unawares as he lumbers through the underbrush. Feet not as light as they usually are, breath heavy, he fears he’s making too much noise. They’re going to get away. They’re going to get away and he’s going to be left here, poisoned and sweaty in this stupid jungle unable to get back to the Crest. 

Back to the kid. 

Back to you.

Back home. 

Blaster still raised Mando comes around the trees the bounty was hiding behind and sees them crouched down, their back to him. Their form seems familiar. Like he’s seen it before. Like he’s watched it, studied it, craved it before.

“Stand— Stand up.” His voice hurts, it’s dry and croaky and he hates the way he’s slowly losing control of reality. He takes a step towards them when they don’t make an effort to move, “I said, Stand. Up.” He has to support himself against a tree before his knees buckle below him, all his strength goes into keeping his focus on the familiar form in front of him and not on the fact that his vision is fading. That he is fading. 

Finally— finally they turn, and he wishes they hadn’t. It’s you. Of course, it’s you. He could pick you out in a crowded cantina in the dark if he had to. 

Why didn’t he recognize you? 

But more importantly, why are you here? Why aren't you on the ship? 

Are you his bounty?

_No._

That’s not right. That can’t be right.

“Wha—?” Pain rips through the right side of his body, with a sharp cry he drops his weapon and collapses to the ground. Fire scorches through his veins and it’s _hot, hot, hot._ There's nothing but pain. 

Always pain.

And then darkness.

——

In the darkness, he dreams. 

He dreams of the brightness of the sun, the light that it brings, the warmth of its touch, the life it gives. He dreams of the inky blackness of space that swallows everything hole. And yet, the light of the stars still pierce through. Still as bright and beautiful as they’ve always been. As they always will be.

And he dreams of you. How you are all of those things, and yet you are still so much more. You have to know what you mean to him. Right? You have to know that you— that you’re his home. That you’re his life. _~~That he loves you.~~_ Right? _Right?_

——

There's a faint beeping that draws him out of his dreams, but the panic that follows is what fully makes him conscious. The kid. He has to get to the kid. They’re going to get them. He attempts to move but his body rejects it, instead, he just lays there against the tree, waves of panic and anger rolling off of him.

And then it’s you. And you’re there in front of him and he doesn’t know how, but here you are. _You’re here—you’re here—you’re here._

You’re not an illusion this time. You’re real and tangible and crouched down beside him putting pressure on his wound whispering words to him that he can’t focus on. His heart is bursting with emotion he doesn’t want to give a name to. He tries to reach up to touch your face, to show you some comfort, to wipe away the tears that you don’t realize are falling. But he’s weak, he’s so weak. He just can’t. 

He tries to speak, his voice coming out rough and broken, “Shh, it’s okay. It’s okay I’m here, we’re here.” You croak out barely able to contain the worry and fear gripping your voice. Gently grasping his hand in yours you place it over his wound, “You'll— you’ll be okay.” 

The child is with you, you had to place them in the carrying bag, along with some supplies you luckily thought to bring, “You… you have to stay awake, okay?” With one hand keeping pressure on his blaster wound, the other searches through the bag for the bacta spray you keep for emergencies. The kid worryingly coo’s, ears drooped and big sad eyes look up at you as you rummage through the sack, “It’s okay. He’ll be okay, we’ll take care of it.” You attempt a smile as you whisper, but you can tell it doesn’t soothe anything in either one of you.

With the spray you are able to at least close up his wound enough to make it back to the ship. With the baby in the backpack, you carrying the Mandalorian, and being on the lookout for any danger, you aren’t sure how you made it back to the Crest but the three of you did. 

Once the Child and bounty hunter are set down you set the security alarms and hurry back to Mando to finish dressing his wounds. Gathering the rest of the med pack you settle down next to him pulling out a bandage to cover where he was shot. 

Your hand rests just above the wound along his rib cage, even through the beskar and layers of clothing you can feel his body heat. If this were a different situation. A different time. If this man, who you have come to know, come to care about, wasn’t just on death's doorstep you might have been inclined to explore him. To see where he was ticklish, to find and caress and kiss all his scars. To see if when he blushed, did it run all the way down his chest or did it flow over the tips of his ears. 

But you can’t. Now is not the time. And you don’t know if it many ever be the time.

You are about to place the bandage on him when his hand comes up to stop you, his grip loose on your wrist, ”I… Thank you.” You can tell it takes a lot of effort for him just to say that with the way his voice brakes.

“I wasn’t sure,” He clears his throat, “I wasn’t sure I would be able to get back to yo— to the ship” His grip on your wrist tightens.

“I just… Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm proud of this one  
> tumblr @huliabitch


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anon requested some thigh riding

A whimper escapes you as your hips roll against the beskar clad thigh beneath you. The two hands that are planted firmly at your waist give a squeeze before one travels up to the nape of your neck, tugging at your hair there. You gasp, gripping onto the muscular shoulder before you, tilting your head back in bliss.

“Gods—” The rasp of his modulated voice sends a shiver down your spine and straight to your core, causing your hips to stutter in their motion. As the grip in your hair tightens, your whimpers turn into moans of pleasure and the tension in your belly grows tighter. You’re loud enough, that if you were in your right mind you’d be embarrassed, but at this moment all you care about is getting off on the armor-clad body in front of you.

“You’ll be the death of me woman.” The Mandalorian didn’t know how he ended up here, in this position, with you clad in only your tunic and underwear writhing in his lap, he just knew he would never forget this moment. Knowing he would be coming back to this memory for years he wanted to remember everything. The noises you make. The weight of you against his person. The plushness of your body. _All of it._

He lets go of your hair and moves his hand to caress your face, thumb rubbing against your cheek. Your hips never stop grinding against him, grip ever-steady on his shoulders. Your breath catches as he brings your forehead to rest against his helmet. His thumb moves down and pulls on your bottom lip. He can feel the heat and moisture of your mouth, panting against his leather clad hand, your tongue pokes out and gives a small lick to his thumb. He groans at the sensation and presses into your mouth.

“Bite,” he orders. And you do. 

It’s like something in him snaps. Once his hand is finally free it feels as if it’s everywhere at once. Charting out a map of your body, like you are the stars and he a pilot, finally able to fly free amongst them.

Tracing down your throat, ghosting over the front of your chest, pressing to the softness of your stomach, your back. He’s everywhere. Leaving a scorching trail in the wake of his touch, a trail you aren’t afraid of burning up in. His hand goes beneath your tunic gripping your waist, relishing in the softness of your skin. You’re sure, with the grip he’s had on you, that you’ll have small bruises against your hips, but you can’t wait to trace over them in fondness later. 

Muffled by his glove still in your mouth you let out a pathetic whimper and grind down as his hand drifts to the front of your underwear pressing against the wetness there. He’s not giving you the friction that you want and it's driving you insane. You’re so close, having been wound up so tight from the tension, from the build, from all the days of the two of you dancing around each other. It’s all been built up to this moment, it’s almost too much. You almost can’t take it. 

But then finally.

_Finally,_

He gives you what you want. What you crave. What you need. With a rumble he moves beneath your panties and presses his thumb against the bundle of nerves there and you swear you see stars. You fall against his chest, arms wrapping around him as he makes quick work of it, thumb rolling against your clit. He growls out in a language you don’t understand but you barely hear him over the sound of you crying out in ecstasy. His glove dropped from your lips as you cum against his hand, hips trying to move with him but completely failing, but you can’t stop. You don’t want to stop. And he doesn’t either.

His thumb keeps working against you, you’re practically sobbing into his neck now from the overstimulation he’s giving you. Your legs a shaking mess, arms clenched around him, it’s too much, you want to cry.

“Man—Mando, p-please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr @ huliabitch


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> thats a’one spicy meatball!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cyar’ika - darling, sweetheart  
> Mesh’la - beautiful

Your hands catch against the wall as he pins you there. You arch your back as the Mandalorian rolls his hips against your ass and even with his right hand clasped around your mouth a moan slips out at his shamelessness and urgency to take you where you stand.

“Shhh— Can’t have anyone walking down here.” 

A gloved hand travels down your spine and ends with a hard grope of your ass. He doesn’t get like this often, but with the way you were just cornered in the cantina by some slimy drunk, got him hot. Hot and angry and filled with a need to mark his territory.

And you want to be used by him. 

To be marked by him. 

To be claimed.

You want to be the only thing taking up space in his mind. Because he is the only thing on yours. 

**Smack.** He gives one cheek a hard slap, one that you know if your ass was bare he would be able to see the handprint it leaves. **Smack.** He slaps the other cheek. You can’t help but let out a whimper in pain, but it quickly morphs into pleasure when he rubs at the spot.

You’ll pay for it. ~~And you can’t wait.~~

At the noises you’re making the bounty hunter presses flush against you. A growl of his own escaping his throat. He keeps his right hand covering your mouth, while his left wraps around your hip playing at your waistline and traveling under your shirt, fingers splayed out across your stomach. 

You can feel him. All of him. His cock hard, pressed to your ass. The coolness of his beskar armor and the heat of his body contrast, making your head spin with lust. A chill flows down your back as you grind against his hips, trying to make him cave. To make him buckle so he’ll give you what you want. What you crave. What you need. His helmet presses into the crook of your neck. Breath ragged. You hear his actual voice and the modulation of his voice he’s so close.

You love it.

“What do you need? Hmm—“ The hand on your stomach slides up and cups one of your breasts, giving a squeeze and tug to your nipple, “Do you need me to fuck you?”

_Stars— yes. Yes. **Yes.**_

“Mhmm.” You groan in response against his hand on your mouth.

You’re wet. So very, very wet. If he would only just reach down your pants and feel between your legs he would know. He would know how much you need him. How much you want his cock in you. Pounding into you. Breaking you. Breeding you.

He moves to your other breast, doing the same with that one. Squeezing, kneading, playing. He’s teasing you. Winding you up into a tight coil. To where any little thing could make you snap. Until you are a whimpering, moaning, needy mess for him. Just for him. 

You absolutely hate it.

_But you absolutely love it._

His hand leaves your breast and travels down wrapping around your waist pulling you closer and still pinning you to the wall. One of your hands wraps around his arm trying to ground yourself as he pulls a wanton noise from your lips.

As his helmet presses against your head he rasps out, “Do you need me to fuck you in this dirty alley?” The hand that was still clasped around your mouth moves and he presses two fingers to your pursed lips, “Have you begging me to let you cum?” He hums at you. Your tongue licks out at the leather pads, tasting dirt and blaster residue, you’re in no right mind to care about. You just need him. All of him. Your mind is blank of anything besides the feel of his arm at your waist, his cock pressing into you, and the heavy weight of his body against you. Biting down on his glove, he’s able to slide his hand free. His bare skin is soft and calloused from years of working in gloves, and the way it caresses down your neck and collarbone causes your heart to clench. As it so often does around him. You’ll look back on it later and ponder over what it means, but right now you just need to be consumed by him

Traveling down your body he dips his hand into your pants and he can feel how you’ve soaked through your underwear. The blaze he leaves down your body will drive you crazy for days to come. And the things that he’s said. _Maker._ Those will stay with you forever.

“Do you need me to fill your pussy up with my fingers?” 

His hand presses and rubs against your cloth-covered clit, winding you uptight with every word, every touch, until you’re ready to burst at any moment.

“With my cock?” With his question, his left arm comes up and rests between your breast while his hand settles against your throat. Giving a gentle squeeze as his other fingers pull aside your underwear, caressing your slit. Feeling the wetness he has caused. 

“With my cum?” He presses two fingers into your cunt, coaxing a moan from you at their quickness. You press back into his hand. Grinding on to his palm. Trying to get more friction. More movement. Anything. Anything that would quell the ache inside of you.

 _Tighter_ and _tighter._

“Hmm, cyar’ika? **Answer me**.”

With a crook of his fingers and he’s found that spot inside you that makes you see stars. The pressure on your throat tightens as your cunt flutters around him and he thumbs at your clit. You’re cumming. You're cumming so hard. Here. Against a dirty wall. In a dirty alleyway. With the Mandalorians hand down your pants and at your throat, and his dick grinding into your ass.

And you _kriffing_ love it.

Before you can come down from your high, he releases your throat and presses your head against the wall twisting his fingers in your hair with a firm grip, and replaces his fingers in your cunt with his cock. He’s pushing into you. Slowly. Making it burn. He’s **big** — Mind blank, you’re barely able to moan out his name as he full sheaths inside you. 

He’s intoxicating— He’s huge— He needs to _kriffing_ move. 

He places his bare hand at the dip of your back and begins to stroke into you. The soft burn of his cock as it slides in and out has you a mumbling mess of words and moans and you don’t ever want it to stop. You’re full— so very full.

“Pl-please.” You don’t know what you're begging for, you just beg. “Mando, please.” You’re almost sobbing, too overstimulated, overwhelmed. 

“Mesh’la.” You hear him whisper out, voice sounding ragged, either from the vocoder or from the effect of watching his cock glide in and out of your pussy as you wine against him. You want to hear more. For a man who is so quiet, you love it when he talks his way through sex.

“You just _grip_ me so well, I don’t want to pull out.” His hand moves down and takes a firm grip on one of your ass cheeks. That coil in the pit of your stomach begins to clench again, though it never really went away, as he keeps a steady rhythm of pounding into you. You won’t last much longer if he keeps going the way he is. 

“Mando, p-please fill— fill me up.”

That does it. That’s what makes him crack, what makes him speed up, pummeling into you, the slick, wet sounds your cunt makes spurs him on harder. Faster. The grip in your hair tightens and he’s pulling your head back, arching your back even more. You’re so close too, moans and wanton sounds trembling from your mouth. 

“Cum for me.” He says through bated breaths, “ Cum for me cyar’ika and I’ll fill you up.” Hips relentlessly pounding into you, your cunt clenched around him, gripping, holding. His helmet knocks against your head and you hear him cry out, “Let me breed you cyar’ika.”

“Pl-please”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr @ huliabitch


End file.
